


like a bolt out of the blue

by whenyouwishuponastar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, F/M, Flirting, Lawyer Ben Solo, Mechanic Rey, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenyouwishuponastar/pseuds/whenyouwishuponastar
Summary: In which Rey meets Ben, first impressions aren't to be judged, and adventures are to be found just over the horizon.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 52
Kudos: 119
Collections: Reylo Hidden Gems





	like a bolt out of the blue

The five o’clock evening sun is blazing overhead and the apartment, with its poor insulation, is stuffy, nearly unbearable, and she turns on all six fans that she has at various places in the living room.  
  
They point at the reclining chair, but she does have one aimed up at the ceiling fan that’s on full blast, so more air might circulate the room. Her widest fan has a large bowl set in front of it with a massive block of ice slowly melting inside. It’s better than the small air conditioning unit in the window that’s on its last leg of life.  
  
It’s on her to-do list, to buy a bigger, portable air conditioning unit, but that requires a few hundred dollars that she simply doesn’t have. Not yet anyway.  
  
Rey would like to be downstairs in the garage, working until the sun fell beyond the horizon, but it’s been a slow week. She can normally count on the hot summer days bringing in more vehicles needing maintenance, but every once in a while there’s a slow week and she must make do.  
  
It’s not hard to find something to work on, her own personal project list longer than her arm. She knew what she was getting into buying this broken down, dilapidated garage with the dingy little apartment on top of it, but she doesn’t regret it for a moment. It’ll take a couple years to get it where she wants it but she’s already worked on fixing some of the wiring and installing new ceiling fans and lights. One of the walls has been ripped clean, replaced with high quality insulation and drywall, but she won’t paint until she’s done the whole apartment.  
  
The flooring had been bare, horribly discolored concrete, but a bit of staining has brought it to life, and, until she’s ready to paint, she has a few soft, fluffy rugs throughout it for comfort and for her cold toes during the winters.  
  
Her sofa is complete shit, the cushions squished to two, thin raggedy pieces of fabric, but she’s afraid to throw it out and make the place seem even more bare than it already is.  
  
The reclining chair is new, proudly purchased only last week, and the most comfortable piece of furniture she’s ever had. She’s slept in it a few times when the walk to the bedroom had seemed particularly far and not altogether worth it, her mattress in as dire need of replacement as the sofa.  
  
She supposes the kitchen is coming along, at least, despite the disaster it looks like currently. Her cabinet doors have all been removed and are downstairs, in the process of being sanded and stained to her liking. She’s thinking of ripping out the laminate countertops and replacing them with butcher blocks. Something sturdy and useful while blending nicely with the concrete floors.  
  
Well, Finn had said they would, anyway, she doesn’t know much about matching countertops to floors or why sky blue walls would really look _so, so awful, Rey, please don’t._  
  
Rey decides not to dive into a project, the heat too much for her, and urges her microwave through it’s half-hearted attempt at steaming frozen vegetables while she cooks rice and chicken on the stove. They’ll both need replacing as well, but she’s not worried about them until the kitchen is completely done or they die and force her hand.  
  
Once she’s got her dinner in a bowl, Rey collapses onto the reclining chair, puts her feet up, and flips to her favorite channel on her tiny television.  
  
She’s been learning Spanish for the last year, ever since she moved to Los Angeles, and Spanish soap operas have gotten her further along than Duolingo ever has.  
  
“Cristóbal!” Rey gasps through a mouthful of rice and broccoli.  
  
And then her phone begins to ring.  
  
Rey groans as she swallows and looks at the unfamiliar number with a frown. She’s technically always open, taking any jobs she can get, but she’s in her chair already and Rey doesn’t like doing anything else when she’s already in her chair.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Rey answers. “Rey’s Auto, how can I help you?”  
  
“Uhh,” a man’s deep voice says. “I think I need a mechanic.”  
  
“You think?” Rey asks as she stuffs a spoonful of rice into her mouth. “Or you do?”  
  
“I do,” the man says more firmly. “My car wouldn't start. I hope I only need a jump. I’m a few miles down from your shop and you seem to be the only one not closed, despite it only being 5:15.”  
  
Rey decides she doesn’t like this man. He’s got an alright voice, yes, but there’s haughtiness to it, and she’s tempted to tell him that _most_ places close at five so people can be with their families, but she doesn’t really want to scare off a potential deposit toward more drywall.  
  
“Alright,” she mumbles and rubs her eyes. “What’s the address?”  
  
He gives her the street corner he’s on, speaking with distaste, as if he wouldn’t normally be seen anywhere near there and Rey frowns to herself.  
  
“Can you send someone quickly?” he asks.  
  
“I’ll be there as quickly as I can. What do you drive?” Rey asks with an edge to her tone that Finn is always saying she needs to work on.  
  
There’s a pause before the man asks, _“You’ll_ be here?”  
  
Rey grits her teeth and glares at Cristóbal’s ugly, sneering face on the screen, imagining it’s this man’s face and how she might sink her fist into those perfectly straight, white teeth. She knows that tone, she’s heard it a million times before, always out of the mouth of a man.  
  
 _Hark! You, a woman, I daresay! Coming to fix my automobile? How can I be sure you can even operate one?_  
  
“Yes, _me,”_ she says through her teeth. “Is that a problem?”  
  
“Er— no, no, of course not,” the man says quickly and coughs. “No problem. See you soon. Oh, uh, it’s a BMW. It’s black. Fairly new.”  
  
“A BMW? Don’t you have free roadside assistance?”  
  
“Yes, but they said it could be four hours before someone can get to where I am. I don’t have that kind of time or patience for the amount of money I’ve given them.”  
  
Rey rolls her eyes. “Depending on what’s wrong with it, I might not have the necessary equipment. BMW batteries are too expensive to just have lying around. It might need a tow.”  
  
“Well, fuck,” the man says, his tone so annoyed and dismayed at the same time that Rey nearly can’t stop herself from laughing at it. “Sorry, pardon my language. That’s alright, if you could just… get here soon. Please.”  
  
“See you in half an hour,” Rey says and takes particular delight in hearing him bark _half an hour?!_ before she hangs up.  
  
Rey knows that risking a bad review is stupid, but she can tell this man comes from money and thinks he’s better than everyone else, including her, and it pisses her off. She knows it shouldn’t, that it’s not his fault that he has money and she doesn’t, but it’s a sore spot for her.  
  
She came from nothing in England, abandoned at an orphanage as a child in the United States, and jostled around from foster home to foster home until one stuck. It wasn’t a particularly good childhood, but her foster father was a mechanic and because he hadn’t known what to do with her, he’d taught her everything he knew about fixing up cars.  
  
He called her Sponge, something that always grated on her nerves, because she had picked up on everything with an ease he said even he hadn’t had.  
  
Her foster mother seemed to take it personally that she preferred cars over dolls and overalls over dresses and had made herself scarce in Rey’s life. _He_ had started drinking when she was sixteen and she left at nineteen, the moment she had saved up enough to get out of the Nevada desert and move to Los Angeles.  
  
It’s only been a year, but she’s proud of how far she’s gotten. From living in motels and working at a shit garage not far from here, to owning her own garage and business, with friends who seem to actually care for her, and a savings account with more than five dollars in it.  
  
So she puts on her work overalls, turns off her fans, and takes in a deep breath. Tells herself that this privileged man doesn’t matter.   
  
He really doesn’t, in the end.  
  
Rey drives the tow truck to where he had said he was and feels a little badly at how she hung up on him, so she gets there in fifteen minutes. He’s parked at a McDonald’s, of all places, and as she’s wondering what in god’s name he was doing in Inglewood at a fast food restaurant, she spots him.  
  
He’s at a trash bin, tossing an empty bag and soda in, and she has the distinct impression he’s trying to get rid of the evidence before she sees it.  
  
“Well, too late for that, Mister BMW,” she says out loud as she pulls up toward his frankly ridiculous coupe.  
  
They look at each other at the same moment and she watches as he, a tree of a man, freezes in place and stares at her through the window of the tow truck. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost or a monster or something equally foul and Rey takes in another deep breath so she doesn’t come out screaming _yes, I have_ boobs, _surprisingly enough!_ _  
_ _  
_Rey hops out of the truck and sticks her hands in her pockets as she walks up to him. He seems to realize that standing there like an idiot isn’t productive, if he wants to get home, and meets her next to his all-black M2 Competition Coupe.  
  
It’s not altogether an expensive car, if you buy the basic model. But she can tell he hasn’t done that from the carbon features decking it out and mentally appraises it at nearly _one hundred thousand dollars._   
  
She sighs and observes him as he sticks his hand out, still looking a bit shell shocked by her femaleness.  
  
“Rey, I assume?” he asks.  
  
“You’ve got it,” she says as she briefly shakes his hand. “And you?”  
  
“Ben,” he says and clears his throat. “You…” he trails off and frowns. “How old are you?”  
  
Rey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?” she asks a bit shrilly, her nerves already frayed by his personality, let alone the way he looks.  
  
He’s bloody tall, wearing a finely tailored business suit, with leather dress shoes that are likely more expensive than his repair bill will be. He’s one of those men who is odd enough looking to be considered unconventionally attractive, with a beaky nose and thick, black hair that he keeps longer than she was expecting.  
  
It falls past his jawline, though he keeps it out of his face, and Rey grapples with her annoyance with him and her annoyance with herself for finding him appealing.  
  
Though, when she’s remembered what he’s asked her, he becomes a bit less appealing.  
  
Ben himself looks rather shocked by his own audacity. “Sorry,” he says. “I was expecting… look, never mind, it doesn’t matter. Can you help me?” He gestures at his car.  
  
Rey eyes him for a moment before she huffs and turns to his car, opening the hood and looking at the pristine engine. _“How_ new is she?”  
  
“Two months,” Ben mutters sourly as he glares down at the engine.  
  
“You should have waited the four hours,” Rey says as she glances askance at him. “They’ll fix anything that’s gone wrong for free. I certainly won’t.”  
  
“I know that,” he says, a bit testily. “But like I said, I don’t have four hours. It would be nearly eleven before I’d get back home, best case scenario. Can you fix it or not?”  
  
Rey levels him with a look. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it yet,” she says. “Did it give you any warnings?”  
  
“No,” he says flatly.  
  
“Hmm, that’s odd,” she says as she walks to her truck and grabs her utility tote. She walks back to the coupe and pulls out the diagnostic computer she had to purchase specifically for BMWs not long after she got to Los Angeles.  
  
There are far too many of them in this one city alone.  
  
She opens the driver door and plugs in the diagnostics and waits for it to boot up.  
  
“Battery is drained,” she says briskly. “And it killed your starter. How long have you been parked here?”  
  
“All day,” Ben says as his glare intensifies. “I was meeting with a client across the street. What do you mean it _killed_ my starter?”  
  
Rey shows him the diagnostic codes on the computer. “BMWs sometimes have issues with batteries draining while they’re sat for a while. Sometimes it kills the starter, if it’s been long enough, though it really hasn’t, if you drove it this morning. This would be covered completely under your warranty. If you want me to fix it, I’ll need to tow it _and_ get the replacement starter, which might take a few days.”  
  
“You don’t have one in your shop?” he asks, the faintest bit of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
Rey unplugs her computer as she grits her teeth. “You expect me to have an M2 starter just lying around? Do you expect _anyone_ to, besides a dealership?”  
  
“I don’t suppose you have the battery either.”  
  
“The battery doesn’t need replacing!” Rey snaps. “It’s a brand new battery, it only needs to be recharged. One drainage isn’t going to harm it. You just need the starter. You know, people who buy these competition vehicles usually know how they work.”  
  
“I know how it works,” Ben snaps back. “I’m just pissed it isn’t working two months off the lot!”  
  
Rey turns to look at him, tilting her chin up defiantly. “Things go wrong sometimes, you know, out of the factory. It isn’t _my_ fault _or_ yours and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take that tone with me.”  
  
Ben’s dark eyes narrow. “I don’t have a _tone,”_ he says, with some sort of forced patience, “and I’d appreciate it if you did your job.”  
  
She can do nothing but gape wordlessly at him for a while. There’s a flicker of something on his face, regret, she thinks, but it’s replaced with iron a moment later and she decides she doesn’t care at all about a bad review.  
  
“I have already told you what’s wrong with your stupid little car!” she shouts. “It isn’t even all that bad! But you’re not leaving McDonald’s without a tow no matter _who_ does it. I’ve done my job already and now you’re wasting my time!”  
  
“It’s not a _stupid little car,”_ Ben hisses. It floors Rey what he’s latching on to in this rapidly deteriorating conversation. “How much will it cost to tow me to your _shop_ and order the part?”  
  
“Nine hundred twenty-three buckaroos,” Rey says with all the attitude she can muster as she glares fiercely.  
  
Ben laughs in disbelief. “You pulled that number out of your ass,” he says accusingly. “You expect me to pay one thousand dollars for a starter?”  
  
“It’s not just a _starter,”_ Rey snarls. “And you know it. You’ve already paid over _ninety_ for this overpriced piece of aluminum, I’m sure you can afford it.”  
  
The corner of Ben’s nose is twitching. “That is completely… that is… that is none of your business,” he sputters. “It’s not about whether I can afford it or not when it’s highway robbery.”  
  
“Listen,” Rey says firmly. “It’s an expensive starter, my time is valuable, and you have to pay for the tow. I am perfectly willing to give you an itemized breakdown of costs before you agree to them, but you won’t find it any cheaper except the _entirely free_ service you’ll get from the warranty!”  
  
“I can’t wait here for four hours!” Ben says as he gestures angrily at the sky. “Time is money and I have work to do when I get home.”  
  
Rey stares at him for a while, her fist clenched at her side, as she takes in a deep breath. She lets it out slowly and nods. “Then call someone else,” she says. “I don’t have the time to argue with you. Time is money, after all, and I have work to do when I get home. Good luck.”  
  
She spins on her heel and stomps back to her truck, tossing the tote into the back.  
  
“You’re leaving?” Ben asks as he follows her. He sounds shocked, as if no one has ever dared defy him before. “You can’t just leave.”  
  
“You’ll find I can do anything I want,” Rey says. “Including turning down your business.”  
  
“No one turns down my business,” Ben says rather menacingly.  
  
Rey snorts. “Well, I just have,” she says as she looks at him. “You best call them back or you’ll be here until midnight at this rate.”  
  
Ben looks like he’s been slapped. He gapes at her, his mouth opening and closing, before he scoffs. “If you’re open as late as you are and it’s only _you,_ it means you need the business. You can’t afford to turn me down.”  
  
“Oh my God!” Rey says loudly, her voice rising towards shrill again. “What on earth is your problem? You are… you…!” She scowls as he raises an eyebrow mockingly. “You are an unbelievably arrogant, rude, privileged arsehole! What a miserable life you must lead! I hope you don’t get home until two! Get out of my way.”  
  
He’s standing in front of her driver door but he steps aside, his shoulders arched up like an angry cat, and Rey climbs into the truck. She slams her door shut and gives him one final, disparaging look before she starts the truck and drives out of the parking lot.  
  
Her hands are shaking as she grips the steering wheel and she glances back in her side mirror at him.  
  
Ben is staring after her, a droop to his shoulders now, the scowl gone and replaced by a defeated frown. _Good,_ she thinks viciously, as she firmly turns forward and drives home.  
  
——

Rey tries not to let the encounter bother her for the last two days of the work week. She only takes Sundays off so she doesn’t completely lose her grip on sanity and can see her friends and go grocery shopping. It doesn’t give her much time to work on the apartment, which is why she’s often up late into the night, so it might not take her ten years to finish it.   
  
No nasty reviews pop up on any website, which she’s glad about, lest she would have had to  _ reply _ to them.   
  
Finn has heard all about Ben, of course, and they exchange barbs and jabs over text about him whenever Rey thinks about him. Because she does still think of him, unfortunately.   
  
He wasn’t all that much older than her, somewhere around thirty, and yet he’d been so arrogant. He was probably born scowling and shaking his finger at the nurses for a job poorly done.   
  
_ It’s too bad you didn’t get his last name, _ Finn texts at some point late Saturday afternoon.  _ We could have left bad reviews for his precious clients to see. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Yeah, ‘A real Kylo Ren, this one, avoid at all costs.’ _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Kylo Ren! I knew he reminded me of some colossal douchebag. Not a Karen, but a Kylo Ren. _ _   
_ _   
_ Rey snickers to herself as she puts her phone back in her pocket and dives back into the engine of an older Toyota Tacoma. It needed its radiator replaced, along with some routine maintenance, and its owner has been particularly delightful to work with.   
  
He might be the man that owns the laundromat down the way that considers Rey one of his finest customers, but that is neither here nor there.   
  
Her radio is blasting  _ No Sleep Till Brooklyn _ and she hums along as she tightens a loose bolt on the engine.   
  
“Uhh,” a male voice says from the front of the open bay.   
  
Rey freezes, her entire body stiffening up, experiencing an unpleasant sense of déjà vu. She gapes down at her wrench and thinks  _ oh no, please, no, not  _ him.   
  
“Rey?”   
  
She emerges from the engine, brandishing the wrench as she looks toward the end of the bay.   
  
“Shit,” Rey mumbles to herself.   
  
Yes, there he is, tall and taking up far too much space.   
  
It takes her a moment of staring at him to realize why he looks so odd. He’s not wearing his tailored suit, but rather a button-up black shirt and fairly casual jeans. His running shoes are bright white and look new and she has the sudden desire to soak them in motor oil, knowing they probably cost more than her favorite reclining chair.   
  
“What are you hiding?” she demands, when she sees that he’s got his hands behind his back.   
  
Ben steps a little closer to her, until he probably senses danger, and stops with a cough. “I want to… apologize,” he says slowly, as if it’s new territory for him. “For how I behaved the other day.” He shows her the bouquet of flowers he’s holding and… something else, stuck in with them that she can’t see. “I don’t know if you like flowers, but…”   
  
Rey twirls the wrench in her hand as she looks between his face and the flowers. She’s momentarily speechless, but he doesn’t have to know that.   
  
Flowers?   
  
_ Flowers? _   
  
“Everyone likes flowers,” Rey mutters. “Did you get the car fixed?”   
  
Ben shuffles closer into the garage and out of the hot sun. “Yes,” he says, his voice contrite. “You were right about it. About everything, of course. Though I got home at ten.”   
  
Rey snorts a little and raises her eyebrows. “I would have been alright never seeing your face again, you know.”   
  
“I know,” Ben says and sighs. “But I wouldn’t have been alright if I didn’t at least try to apologize. If my mother had heard the way I spoke to you, she would have dragged me by my ear until I apologized.” He clears his throat. “She didn’t raise me to treat anyone like that. I’m ashamed that I did.”   
  
“Hmm,” Rey hums as she sets her wrench down and stuffs her filthy hands into the pockets of her overalls. She approaches him and glances at the flowers.   
  
They’re lovely, bright daisies and large sunflowers woven together, a light and fun bouquet, perfect for summer. There’s a pink box stuck in the middle and she squints at it until she realizes that it’s a box of what’s likely chocolates.   
  
She might scoff at it any other time, but it pains her to realize a man has never given her flowers or chocolates before, and the only reason she’s getting them now is because she dealt with his shitty attitude.   
  
“You can open them,” he says as he holds out the bouquet.   
  
Rey shoots him a suspicious look, but he still looks properly ashamed, and she takes the box out of the bouquet. She opens it carefully, a bit afraid of being bitten in some other way, but the box does contain only chocolates.   
  
Written on each one is a different letter in various shades of pink and purple, spelling out,  _ please forgive me. _   
  
Rey laughs. She can’t help it. “Oh my God,” she giggles as she looks at the chocolates for a moment longer, then up at Ben.   
  
His face is fetchingly red and he’s frowning powerfully, as if he doesn’t know if she’s laughing at his gift, him, or his attempt at apologizing.   
  
She won’t tell him it’s all of them at once.   
  
“I’ve never gotten apology chocolates,” she says mildly as she recovers the box and sets it aside. She plucks the flowers out of his grasp and breathes in their scent, closing her eyes.   
  
If she were to ever plant a garden, it would be filled with sunflowers, tall and bright and happy. Ben doesn’t need to know that either.   
  
“I mean it,” Ben says as he watches her. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands now that they’re empty and stuffs them in his own pockets. “I’m sorry. My day hadn’t gone well… not an excuse,” he says hastily as she raises an eyebrow. “I took it out on you, when you went out of your way to help me. I’m sorry, Rey.”   
  
Rey observes him for a moment and he meets her gaze levelly. He’s a lot more handsome without that scowl, she thinks, and his eyes hold a genuine kindness that she hadn’t seen a few days ago. But she’s always been wary of people, especially men, and decides she can’t fully forgive and forget.   
  
“Well, it’s not alright,” she says slowly and smiles a little as his frown deepens. “But I’ll accept the flowers and chocolates.”   
  
Ben sighs in relief, his shoulders relaxing marginally, and he smiles faintly as well.   
  
It’s a wonder what it does to his face. She can only imagine what he looks like when he grins, what he sounds like when he laughs.   
  
Rey shakes herself of those thoughts and puts the chocolates in the small refrigerator she has in the garage, setting the flowers on top. “She’s working alright then?”   
  
“The car? Yes,” Ben says as he glances behind him at where his M2 is parked on the street. “They agreed with what you said. The battery came out of the factory faulty but didn’t need to be replaced. Killed the starter. I should have just let you do your work.”   
  
“No, you shouldn’t have. You should have stopped being an idiot and called your roadside assistance and gotten everything done for free,” Rey says and smiles as he grimaces. “Which you did.”   
  
“With your help, yes,” Ben mumbles. “Or dressing down, anyway.”   
  
Rey laughs and grins. “You did deserve it.”   
  
He’s staring at her, looking taken aback all over again, but she doesn’t have the time to figure out why, when he smiles again, wider this time. “I did,” he agrees. “I said some awful things.”   
  
“Yes,” Rey says. “But I’m willing to move on, if you are.”   
  
Ben nods. “I’d like that,” he says and looks around the garage curiously. “How long have you been in business?”   
  
“Seven months,” Rey answers and feels a bit self-conscious about her garage. It’s not nearly as refined as a chain or the more established locally owned garages. Everything is a bit run down, but she’s put quite a lot of money and time into making it her own space, organized and tidy.   
  
“How long have you lived in LA?” Ben asks as he looks at her again.   
  
Rey purses her lips. That’s always been a loaded question for her but she tries to remember Finn telling her not to be so defensive all the time and takes in a calming breath. “Only a year. I was in Nevada before then.”   
  
“One hot climate to another,” Ben says wryly. “I imagine you experienced a lot more rain back home.”   
  
Back home meaning England, of course, curse her accent. It’s always made her stand out when the most she’s ever wanted is to blend in. To be normal. To be treated normally.   
  
“Sorry,” Ben says quickly. “I don’t mean to pry.”   
  
Rey huffs a little. “I don’t remember back home much,” she says. “I came here when I was eight. But… yes, I suppose I do remember the rain, if nothing else.”   
  
She remembers it all far more than she’ll admit, many lonely days under an oak tree, watching the rain and letting the sound of it drown out uncomfortable thoughts.   
  
“Sorry.”   
  
“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Rey says stiffly. “Once was enough.”   
  
Ben looks like he may apologize again, but he doesn’t. “How long have you been working on cars?”   
  
“Nine years,” Rey says as she picks up the wrench for something to hold, feeling a little untethered to the ground. “What do you do?”   
  
“I’m an attorney,” Ben says slowly.   
  
“Ah,” Rey says and raises an eyebrow. “That makes sense.”   
  
“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Ben says with grim acceptance. “Though we’re not all bloodsucking.”   
  
Rey smiles and shrugs. “But you are?”   
  
Ben frowns for a while and seems to be thinking about it. “Maybe I was before… not anymore, though. Well, not toward anyone that doesn’t deserve it.”   
  
“Who deserves a bloodsucking lawyer on their back?”   
  
Ben makes a noise somewhere between amusement and offense. “I worked in family law, when I first graduated,” he says. “I left it a few years later and learned IP law instead. It’s a lot more fulfilling.”   
  
“Intellectual property?” Rey asks and he nods. “Why is that more fulfilling than family law? Sounds incredibly boring.”   
  
“It might sound that way, but it’s not,” Ben says with a smirk. “A lot more technical and challenging. Family law was all about watching parents destroy each other and their children out of spite. Not good for anyone’s mental health. With IP law, at least I can go after the people that steal other people’s property knowing full well they’re doing it.”   
  
Rey watches Ben for a while. He says it so easily, like it’s nothing to him, but there’s something in his eyes that tells her how much of an impact family law had on him. And if watching what people are capable of doing to each other, to their own children, caused him enough distress to change his career path… well, she thinks that says a lot about him.   
  
He might have been an arsehole to her a few days ago, but she supposes she’s been an arsehole to some people on her own bad days, and she doesn’t think she’s a bad person.   
  
Maybe he isn’t either.   
  
“I suppose they do deserve someone sucking the life out of them then,” Rey says and smiles as Ben chuckles. “A lot of money in IP law then?”   
  
Ben looks like he might have something sharp to say to that, but perhaps he remembers his own assumptions from a few days ago, and the corners of his mouth soften. “A good amount,” he says. “Though I suppose family money helps.”   
  
“I knew you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth,” Rey says, but she keeps her tone light and teasing and he merely shrugs his massive shoulders in reply. “Let me guess. Calabasas?”   
  
Ben opens his mouth, then closes it, furrowing his brow.   
  
Rey gasps. “No! I was joking,” she says and sighs. “Do you have to be so stereotypically rich?”   
  
“Do you have to be so…” Ben trails off and makes an odd gesture with both of his hands that he seems as confused by as she is. “Unstereotypical?”   
  
Rey snorts with laughter. “I prefer that one, yeah,” she says and shakes her head. “If you don’t mind, I do have to finish this job before the end of the day.”   
  
“Is it your last one?”   
  
“Why?”   
  
Ben shrugs casually. “Maybe you’d like to get dinner after?”   
  
Rey pauses and nearly drops the wrench in her hand she had been twirling. She blinks at him for a while, her stomach churning - not altogether unpleasantly - and her heart hammering away.   
  
It’s not as if she’s never been asked out before. Just… not by him. She wants to ask him what his angle is, because men like him don’t like women like her.   
  
“Do I have to wear a strapless cocktail dress and high heels?” she asks instead.   
  
Ben looks her up and down. Not in an overly lecherous way, merely a curious one. “I would pay good money to see you attempt to walk in high heels,” he says and smirks at her offended scoff. “I know you own neither of those things.”   
  
“I own dresses,” Rey says defensively.   
  
“From the one time you were a bridesmaid when you were 14?”   
  
“Two times,” Rey says as she points the wrench at him. “My foster parents’ niece got remarried.”   
  
Ben’s laughing by the time she’s done speaking and Rey can’t help but grin at the sight. It lights him up in a way she hasn’t seen yet and her heart flutters in a rather alarming way.   
  
“You don’t have to get dressed up. Maybe just wash your face,” Ben says, but he’s smiling too genuinely for it to sting.   
  
Not that it should, she knows she has a habit of smearing grease all over her face throughout the day.   
  
“I don’t want to go anywhere fancy.”   
  
“I wouldn’t want to take you anywhere fancy,” Ben says, then hastily adds, “because I don’t think you’d like it. In fact, if you want to choose, I’d be delighted.”   
  
“Delighted,” Rey says with amusement. “Come back in an hour and a half and I’ll be ready.”   
  
Ben sighs. “Can I wait in my car? Anywhere familiar is half an hour away.”   
  
Rey eyes him for a while.  _ Don’t you dare, _ Poe’s voice says, but she firmly shoos him out of her head. “I suppose you can wait here while I finish up,” she says slowly. “Though you’ll need to stay in here when I’m getting ready.”   
  
That calms Poe’s voice somewhat.   
  
“Of course, I don’t expect to be invited up,” Ben says politely. “May I have some water while I wait?”   
  
Rey fetches him a water bottle before she runs upstairs to put the flowers in water. She arranges them nicely on her kitchen island, spending more time making them look pretty than she needs to, before she rejoins Ben in the garage.   
  
She tries not to think of him, sitting on a crate in the corner of the garage and inspecting it, her and everything else curiously. She works on the truck more sloppily than usual, but not enough to do any damage. It’s merely her nerves getting to her, her hands trembling as she thinks about getting dinner with this man.   
  
There’s no saying it’ll go well. She might throw her drink in his face and storm out by the end of the evening, for all she knows, but she hopes that isn’t the case.   
  
God, she  _ likes _ him.   
  
Ben asks her a question now and then, nothing too personal, and she marvels at how very different it is to have someone in the garage while she’s working that isn’t Finn or Poe dropping by to annoy her.   
  
He’s polite and his humor is more self-deprecating than she might have thought, given her initial impression of him.   
  
After she’s called Tom to tell him his truck is ready to be picked up and he sends two of his employees from the laundromat to pick it up, Rey looks at Ben.   
  
It’s over one hundred degrees today and there’s nothing but two massive shop fans and Ben already looks like he’s sweltering in his jeans. He’s likely used to a nice air conditioned office and home.   
  
“You can come up,” she says carefully. “It’s too hot to be in here. Though, it isn’t much cooler in the apartment, honestly.”   
  
Ben looks taken aback but he recovers quickly and stands up. “Oh, uhh… that’s alright,” he says. “Are you sure? I can go sit in my car.”   
  
Rey scolds herself. Of course he can sit in his car, he has no need to be in her apartment. She doesn’t know him, she doesn’t know his intentions, and she can hear Poe yelling obscenities somewhere in the back of her mind.   
  
“Oh, right,” she says. “Of course, yes. Good idea. I’ll be down soon.”   
  
Ben nods and gives her a small wave as he turns and walks down to the street to his car. Rey watches him go, her cheeks warm, before she closes up the garage and turns everything off.   
  
She remembers the chocolates and brings them upstairs. She uncovers the box and sets it next to the flowers and takes a picture of them together, and sends the picture to Finn.   
  
_ Guess who? _   
  
It doesn’t take Finn long to reply back.   
  
_ No, no, no. No way. _   
  
Rey smiles and is typing her response when she gets a text from Poe as well.   
  
_ No, no, no. Don’t accept those. _   
  
She rolls her eyes and replies to them both to mind their own business, to which they immediately accuse her of being the one to send the picture in the first place.   
  
_ He’s nice. Properly ashamed and all that. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Kylo Ren, remember? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Everyone acts like Kylo Ren once in a while. _   
  
Rey isn’t entirely surprised when Finn calls her.   
  
“Oh my God. Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”   
  
“Which is?”   
  
“Go  _ out _ with him.”   
  
“He’s invited me to dinner,” Rey says slowly and sighs as Finn makes some sort of distressed noise. “He’s not as awful as we thought. Trust me, I would’ve kicked him to the curb if he was.”   
  
Finn heaves a sigh. “I  _ do _ trust you. I don’t trust him,” he mumbles. “At least tell me where you’ll be and text me to let me know you’re alright. And when you’ve gotten home safe too.”   
  
Rey smiles. “I will,” she says gently. “I promise. Thank you.”   
  
“Send me a picture of his license plate too.”   
  
“Oh my God.”   
  
_ “Rey.” _   
  
“Fine! I have to go get ready now. I’ll talk to you soon.”   
  
Rey hangs up before Finn can protest anymore and takes what must be the fastest shower of her life. She chooses a regular t-shirt, capris and sandals, in case Ben gets any ideas about anything fancy. She stares at herself in the mirror for a while before deciding that he’s asked her out when she was covered in grease and doesn’t need to do anything with her hair.   
  
Not that she’d know what to do with it, besides her usual bun when she’s out with friends.   
  
When she locks up her apartment and walks downstairs, Ben gets out of his car and walks around it to open the passenger door for her. He’s staring at her, a faint red tinge to his nose, and she bites her lip.   
  
Maybe he likes fancy restaurants and houses and cars, but he likes  _ her _ too, and that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?   
  
He laughs when she takes a picture of his license plate and even says his last name is  _ Solo, _ in case anyone wants to run a background check on him.   
  
Rey gets into his ridiculous coupe and watches as he does the same, butterflies in her stomach.   
  
“Where did you want to go?”   
  
“I thought we might get McDonald’s.”   
  
Ben narrows his eyes at her.   
  
“I’m only thinking of what you like.”   
  
He sighs as he starts the car and pulls down the street. “Can we at least do In-N-Out? That’s at least a quality establishment.”   
  
Rey grins. “There’s a place in Manhattan Beach that’s really good. El Tarasco. Best burritos in Los Angeles.”   
  
Ben smiles as he looks at her, then back at the road. “A burrito sounds perfect. Let’s do it.”   
  
“Let’s do it,” Rey sighs and smiles as she looks at the sun still bright in the sky, but on its way to setting.   
  
And, she supposes, first impressions aren’t always the best and perhaps shouldn’t be so easily judged. Because when she sits on the boardwalk, a huge burrito smothered in red sauce and cheese in her lap, Ben at her side, she feels a strange sort of happiness she’s never felt before.   
  
A peace she’s never felt before, settling right in her heart, telling her that this is only the beginning of a new adventure.   
  
And his hand holding hers, as they watch the sun set, the perfect promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Please go easy on me, it's my first Reylo fic! And I know nothing about repairing cars, sorry!
> 
> I'm fairly new to the fandom and to reading Reylo fics, but I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments mean a lot! A big thanks to Erin. :)
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://whenyouwishuponastar7.tumblr.com/)


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